Road Trip

The kids and I packed up the hoopty wagon yesterday and headed to my parent's house three hours away. A short trip, no? Ah, no. Not really. We had a couple stops to make on the way and it turned into the four hour trip from hell. Okay, maybe not hell, but it was NOT fun.

We stopped for lunch at a Chick fil A about an hour after we started the trip. BabyGirl had to potty. So we go into the potty and she announces VERY LOUDLY "Somebody destwoyed this bafwoom. It really, really stinks!" I still don't understand how she gets the r's right on the really, really but nothing else. And a special thanks to Dr. Daddy for teaching her the "destwoyed" term.

About an hour and a half later she HAD to poopy in the potty. We are in the middle of NOWHERE. Literally. I mean, the theme song from Deliverance was going through my head. But she HAD to go. SOOOOO, we stop at a REALLY gross gas station/bait shop. We wait for a bit to get into the potty because some goth looking teenager was in there. Then my little diva walks in and announces "This bafwoom is bistusting. I will peepee in here but I will not poopoo. I will poopoo at Mimi's house". So much for her desperate need to poo.

The rest of the trip there was rather uneventful other than BabyBoy asking me a thousand times if I was sure I knew where I was going.

Today, BabyGirl, Mimi and I went to get pedicures. So fun, yes? We all got our nails done and then I decided I'd go ahead and get my eyebrows waxed while I was there. So I lay down and this sweet Vietnamese girl says to me "You no want to do you mustache, too?" I said "No, not today." She says "No, you feel it. See? You want me to wax mustache?" Okay, so now I'm HORRIFIED. I do NOT have a FREAKIN mustache!!!! I'm completely blonde! What is she thinking? Besides, I tell her, when I've tried to wax it before (despite the fact that it doesn't hardly exist and I'm just neurotic) it's always broken out. "Okay" she says. "We do it next time". No, WE do NOT do it next time. There will not BE a next time. Huumph.

After pedicures and ice cream at Coldstone (which makes my ego feel much better, especially after seeing a gorgeous blonde with a rock the size of Texas on her finger eating sorbet), the kids and I load up in the car and head home. Our trip home was fairly uneventful other than the gum incident.

I gave BabyGirl some gum (sugar free so no sticking, right?). She manages to get it EVERYWHERE and can't get it off of her fingers. BabyBoy says "I guess we'll just have to cut her hand off". "Daddy can do it at work", he says. Lovely. She proceeded to scream bloody murder for the next ten miles. This is when I put the Dave Matthews CD in and turn it up as loud as I can without busting a speaker or permanently damaging their hearing.

Alas, we are now home and they are safely nestled in their beds. Poor kids. Who asked THEM if they wanted to take a road trip? Too bad we have to drive NINE hours to the beach next Saturday. Xanax, Xanax, Xanax. Enough said.